


Remember

by captainofthefallen



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Abbey of the Fallen Moon, Gen, Pillars Prompts Weekly, Prompt 29, White March 2, the Salt Well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:42:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainofthefallen/pseuds/captainofthefallen
Summary: Written for Pillars Prompts Weekly prompt 29: TemptedThe Salt Well quest got me thinking and this happened.





	Remember

“I am the Tidebringer.”

The lie follows her, like she can hear its footsteps coming up behind her in too-quiet moments. Moments of which there are many, in this abbey.

It’s not like lying bothers her, and from her conversation with the High Abbot, it seems she might just be able to pull this off, if only she can learn enough about Ondra and the Giftbearers to get through this ‘recitation’ he mentioned.

No, that’s not what’s bothering her. It’s this place. The silence; how as the monks and the Giftbearers and everyone else just go about their business, none of them even seem to notice how footsteps echo just a little too loud, or how the light in the hallways is just a little too… _ghostly_.

She finds the library, finds the chronicle of a Giftbearer’s journey, and her heart seems to beat just a little faster, her mind and her soul oppressed with just this feeling of _wrong, wrong, wrong,_ because this… this _forgetting_ …

She can’t even explain it. But it eats at her, like it’s trying to consume her, like acid eating at her insides, and she’s afraid.

She sets the book back on the shelf, its words spinning through her mind, and she walks away, quickly, too quickly, her footsteps sounding loudly through the hall, but there’s no damn air in here, and it’s too quiet, and it’s _wrong_ but she couldn’t explain why if anyone asked.

“Mara.”

She stops. Maneha’s voice is quiet, for her, but it fills the silence and for a moment she can breathe.

“It’s here,” she says.

Mara takes a deep breath. She nods. “Tell me again what this will do to you.”

Maneha breathes for a moment, like she’s preparing herself, somewhere between excitement and nerves. “I’ll forget my Awakening. I’ll forget murdering those people.”

Mara swallows. “And you’re sure you won’t forget more?”

Maneha smiles, shrugs a shoulder. “At this point? I’d be okay with that.”

They step into the room, eyes falling on what must be the Salt Well–a small pool, dark as the deepest ocean, against the far wall.

Mara steps toward it, almost in a trance, reaching out with her mind, reaching for the depths as she finds–

Nothing. There’s nothing there. It’s like a void, like this great emptiness, but… somehow even _less_ than emptiness, like part of it is calling to be filled. And just for a moment…

“If you knew something,” she breathes. “Something that was going to drive you mad…” She takes a step closer. “Would you forget?”

Maneha gives a mirthless chuckle. “I already know the answer to that. I’m here, aren’t I?”

But Mara isn’t talking to her, not really. She’s stepped to the edge, following what she now sees are the threads reaching from that pool. But they’re not soul threads, not in the way she’s always seen, not in the way she’s seen even more distinctly since becoming a Watcher. It’s like… like a feeling of black tendrils, and if she could give them voice she’d say they were reaching out with whispers, promising the peace of forgetting, of never having known.

“Mara.”

It’s not Maneha this time, who pulls her out of the silence. It’s Aloth. His hand is on her arm, concern in his face, applying the slightest pressure to hold her back.

He doesn’t say anything more. Just her name. But she hears it all the same.

“You’re right,” she says, even though he hasn’t said anything. “I can’t. It’s… it’s _shaped_ me. If I forget… who am I?”

The relief in his eyes tells her she’s made the right decision. He squeezes her arm, the briefest gesture of comfort, and takes a step back, still lingering close by, eyes flickering between Mara and Maneha.

“Maneha…” Mara says quietly. “Don’t do this. You… I haven’t seen what you’ve seen. But my memories contain horrors of their own. How can you tell how much knowing this has shaped you? How can you truly know the consequences of forgetting?”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” she says, stepping towards the pool.

“Wait.” Mara steps in front of her, holding out a hand, and Maneha stops. “Hear me out. Please. What if knowing this has prevented you from doing something similar? What if forgetting… what if that same rage you felt takes you again, and you don’t remember the consequences of your soul’s actions? It’s better to learn from someone else’s mistakes than your own, even if they were in your own soul. Right?” She’s talking quickly now, her breath coming faster and faster as she realizes what she almost just did.

Maneha seems to… uncoil, almost, like the tension and anticipation she’d been building up is releasing itself, and she shifts back onto her heels. She sighs deeply. “I was afraid you’d say something like that.” Her eyes meet Mara’s for the first time since they stepped into the room. “My parents always said that anything that seems too good to be true probably is. You spend so much time searching for a way to fix what’s broken, you don’t see that the fixing would only break something else.”

She sits, and after another long glance at that pool, Mara joins her.

Somehow, as they share Maneha’s bottle of wine, the silence is less oppressive.


End file.
